Tell me about it. I turned 40 this year, and I had to laugh at the fact that our entire family was in bed by 8:30 last night. In college I was just waking up at that point and getting ready to go to the bars.

It makes me tired just thinking about it. Time for a nap.

Ever since I had my child, I'm in bed as soon as she is...like Eileen, around 8:30. It's not so bad, especially since they now say that the older we get, the happier we'll be (in retirement).

Hmmm.... maybe my early degenerate tendencies just hibernated for awhile. I'm 51, just married a guy who's 45, and on more than one occasion in recent months have been up until 6 a.m. drinking and playing poker and sleeping past noon the next day.

As to your challenge, David, that's such a typical Knik scenario that a number of possibilities occur. Using a tow-bar, you towed one Scout with the other and had the motorcycles in the back of the pickup. You put a motorcycle in or on top of each Scout, towed one Scout with the pickup and drove the other. You rented a big rig and a trailer and piled EVERYTHING onto the flatbed and drove together in the Mack truck.

But back to your social dilemma--does this mean I won't have any company at the CCC staying up far too late engaged in boozy arguments about the true value (or lack thereof) of podcasting? The demise of classic baseball fields? Whether there's any real reason for genetically modified foods? You mean I'm gonna have to behave myself?

Rats.

Joan, first of all, I can handle whatever you have to dish out. We'll see you in Chicago.

Secondly, your first guess was closest: 'cycles in back of pick-up, which towed the '64 Scout on U-haul trailer. '70 Scout (with no brakes) led the way. Albuq.-Chi. in two really phenomenal days.

There's something about hearing another guy's "guy" stories that make you have all the more respect for him.

Why just yesterday I was threatening to sweep David's leg ("Karate Kid" reference for all you 40-plussers out there) if he tried to take me golfing at some hole-in-the-ground course an hour outside of Chicago. Now, however, I feel like buying a beer and having him recount his Hunter S. Thompson-esque journey from Chicago to Vegas.

But I can only hope and pray that I'm not nearly as lame in like 30 years when I'm as old as David.

Justin--

You're already as lame as me.

David

You've got a couple years on me, David - but only a couple, so I know how you feel. It's not even that at some point you start to be that guy who dreads the wild weekend with his buddy so much as it is the way becoming that guy kind of sneaks up on you much sooner than you ever expected it would.

Somehow you always imagine the point when you become that guy is somewhere way out in front of you. And then you look in the mirror and there he is - you're somebody else's husband and somebody else's dad with your own hard-earned laugh lines. And, given the choice, you actually tend to prefer being that guy on any given weekend.

The good news is we're both still not so far down that road that we don't occassionally try try to revolt against it now and then. So if you and Joan need some company at the CCC, I'll be around. And then maybe when the conference is over I'll drive all the way back to west coast, with a swing down to Vegas...

Justin - Wax on, wax off. Painta the fence.

The image of you trying to sweep David's leg is killing me.

Eileen, there would be no "trying" involved. My cat-like reflexes would take David out before he could say, "Bring me my 'One A Day Men's 50+ Health Advantage.'"

Naturally, he'd say this at a very rapid rate, like the "Micro Machines" guy from the 80's. So my leg sweep would happen in an instant. Everyone around would cheer. Elizabeth Shue would run out and give me a hug. Mr. Miyagi and I would go to Japan together. My face would never age.

I wanted to be Elizabeth Shue after seeing that movie. I wore a bandana as a hair band for months after that. Full confession: Sometimes I still do. Sigh.

I _wanted_ Elizabeth Sue after seeing that movie. Which tells you something about how old I am.

I just crack up when youngsters like David gripe about being old.

I know, Robert. Premature griping about old-age is one of my most annoying habits. (Which means it's teetering atop a tall stack.)

But I am so, so, SO conscious of getting older and how it changes the body and the mind.

(In interesting ways, not all of them bad--but none of them quite possible to ignore.)

You people wanna talk feeling old? Try spending two full days at an HR conference on "How to be a Best Company To Work For" Ugh!

I'm still recovering from the horror, which I, (as you'll all recall I am a COMMUNICATOR and not an HR person) frankly should NEVER have been anywhere near. Unfortunately, my boss, who IS the VP of HR (as well as Comms) was unable to attend...at the last minute (Ya, sure! wink, wink, nudge, nudge - even HE probably just didn't wanna go!)

It really was as bad as you're imaginining. If I ever truly get back to normal, I may attempt a MyRagan blog on the experience...but only after much, MUCH wine to kill the pain!!

Kristen, please point me to whatever you write; I'll link to it so the whole gang will see.

Meantime, drink up.

David,

Are you forgetting to zip your fly in the morning before you head out the door? If not, then you're still young. (Oh, and make no mistake, even your best friends won't tell you.)

Will